


Beards Are Sexy

by OfficialStarsandGutters



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Cecil may or may not have a beard kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-28
Updated: 2013-11-28
Packaged: 2018-01-02 22:08:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfficialStarsandGutters/pseuds/OfficialStarsandGutters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Cecil, I know you have a fixation with my hair, but-”<br/>“It's gone!”<br/>Cecil sounds as if he might cry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beards Are Sexy

**Author's Note:**

> For the lovely and beautiful Charlie, who requested 'Carlos' hair disappears from his head but appears as beard instead.' It took me forever to get around to this, but then it turned out super long, so I guess that makes up for the wait.

 

Carlos is woken by a scream.

It is high, and it is frantic, and the bed is moving as Cecil flails about. The walls begin to echo him, are giving their own loud wail of accompaniment. The sheets and the duvet are quivering. The curtains blow and sway as if dancing to the sound. Carlos jerks up in the bed, eyes flying open and immediately alert, looking around to see the source of Cecil's alarm.

Nothing that he can see is out of place.

It is too early for this. (Or at least, he thinks it is. Difficult to tell when time doesn't work.)

“What is-”

“Carlos, your hair!”

Cecil's hands are pressed against his cheeks and his expression is one of complete and utter despair. His lips are parted and his eyes are wide, and all Carlos can think about is that creepy painting. The one with the guy on the bridge. The Scream? Is that it? Was that the one the bad movie based on? Anyway, that is all he can think of and the resemblance is unsettling. Especially so (probably) early in the morning.

And really, it's not like it's the first time Cecil has seen his bed head. It can't be that horrible.

Carlos sighs and flops back onto the pillows.

“Cecil, I know you have a fixation with my hair, but-”

“It's gone!”

Cecil sounds as if he might cry. If Carlos were not more interested in that exclamation, he might ponder the unhealthy nature of his boyfriend's apparent obsession with his hair. Instead, he slowly reaches up and slides his hand over his head. Cecil is, in fact, correct. Where there were shoulder length locks yesterday, today there is only short, neat stubble.

“Oh.”

“Well, not gone...” Cecil's hands are suddenly on his face, stroking down over his cheeks and onto his beard.

Wait.

What?

One of Carlos' hands join Cecil and, oh, _oh_ , he has rather an impressive beard now. Which is strange, since he shaved only a few days ago and-

Oh.

_Well, not gone._

His hair has moved from the top of his head to his chin. Well. Carlos should probably be more concerned by this, but all he can do is laugh at it. Really, he's grown so accustomed to the strangeness that is Night Vale by now that he has developed an odd sense of humour about it. (Only when the events aren't life threatening, of course, because Carlos is still a professional.)

“Carlos! How can you laugh at a time like this!”

It is cruel, a quiet voice in the back of Carlos' mind informs him, to find Cecil's devastation so amusing, but this voice is so quiet Carlos can barely hear it over his laughter.

“Carlos!”

“I'm- I'm sorry,” Carlos manages between wheezy laughs, and never has an apology sounded so insincere. “It's just- your f-face.”

Cecil lets out an indignant huff and folds his arms across his chest. His eyes are hard and narrowed, and his mouth is turned down in an unhappy frown. Carlos knows if he doesn't act soon that Cecil will tip over into full on sulk, which is unpleasant and difficult to deal with. He sighs and shifts closer, reaching beneath the blanket to settle a hand on Cecil's hip.

“I'm sorry.”

Cecil does not soften his stance. He continues to glare at Carlos.

“I shouldn't have laughed. If it's upsetting you-”

“And it is.”

“Then I should be taking it seriously.”

Cecil gives a curt nod to this. He keeps his defensive stance. Well, Carlos will just have to up his game. He shuffles closer, pressing a kiss to Cecil's jaw. He feels the bone shift beneath his lips as Cecil clenches his jaw. He is steeling himself. Carlos smiles against his skin, knowing it won't be long before Cecil melts beneath his touch. He brushes more kisses down along his neck. Cecil giggles, twisting and squirming away.

“Carlos!”

“What?” Carlos' voice is low and distracted. He is up now (in more ways than one), and becoming increasingly invested in the idea of ravaging Cecil before breakfast.

Cecil's giggling has turned into full laughter now, and, well, that's not exactly encouraging, but Carlos has heard him make weirder noises in bed.

“C-Carlos, your beard is tickling me!”

Cecil screams and tries to wriggle away. Carlos catches him around the waist and pulls him closer, nuzzling into the side of his neck. Cecil gasps, breathless, and runs a hand over Carlos' head. His fingers close, automatically seeking grip, but there is nothing there for him to hold. He emits a disappointed whine.

“I miss your hair.”

“It'll grow back.”

Carlos is mouthing at Cecil's shoulder now, hand stroking down over his thigh. Cecil starts to complain again but then Carlos' hand is on him and he moans, words forgotten.

*

Carlos stretches out and sighs. Cecil's grip tightens around his waist, and the leg thrown over his hips squeezes down. Carlos laughs and turns his head, catching Cecil's lips in a light, sweet kiss.

“I do have to get up at some point, you know,” he says. Cecil whines in response.

It takes another five minutes and several kisses to convince Cecil to let go of him.

Carlos pads into the bathroom and steps into the shower. He automatically starts to wash his hair, only to realise that, ah yes, he doesn't have any. He's left with more shampoo than he needs settled in his palm. He rubs it over his head anyway and finishes getting washed. Tying a towel around his waist, he moves to the sink to shave.

This is when Cecil, as if knowing what is about to happen, bursts through the door.

“Carlos, no!”

Then suddenly Cecil has leapt on him. The floor is still damp and the sudden pouncing attack throws Carlos off balance. He slips and the pair of them land in a painful pile on the tiles. Cecil yelps when his head hits against the edge of the sink.

“Cecil! What are you doing!”

“I was just- Oh! My darling, you're bleeding.”

Carlos is, indeed, bleeding. He'd been holding the razor when Cecil decided on his little stunt, and it had sliced along his cheek when they toppled. A steady trickle of blood is running down into his beard. Cecil is terribly concerned about this, and within a matter of seconds has pressed a wad of toilet paper to the wound. Carlos sighs and moves his hand away.

“Please explain why you felt it necessary to tackle me.”

Carlos tries to be patient with Cecil. He tries to never lose his temper, because their customs are different and sometimes Cecil has his own strange reasoning for doing the things he does. Sometimes it's even to save Carlos' life. As a result, he always tries to give him the chance to explain himself before he reacts.

“You were about to shave.”

“Yes.”

Carlos does not see the problem here. He pushes himself up, hissing as his back protests. He is not young any more. He is certainly too old for slipping and sliding around on bathroom floors.

“You can't shave.” Cecil is using that tone that he so often uses around Carlos. It is a tone that suggests what he is saying is painfully obvious, that it is mere common sense, and that Carlos is a bit thick for not picking up on it on his own.

Carlos takes a slow breath. Patience. Calm.

“And I can't shave, because?”

“Because, that's your hair!”

“Er.”

Cecil sighs and shakes his head, clambering to his feet to stand beside Carlos. He reaches up and curls the end of Carlos' beard around his finger, giving it a light tug.

“This is the hair from your head. It's just moved. If you shave it off, it can't move back.”

Carlos stares at him in disbelief, but Cecil only smiles up at him as if there is no flaw in this plan.

“Cecil.”

“Yes?”

“Cecil, I can't go around with a beard.”

“Why ever not?”

“I don't want a beard.”

“I think it's sexy.” Cecil gives his beard another little tug, and, really, is this meant to be endearing? Because Carlos is not seeing the appeal of having his facial hair tugged on. “So rugged and manly.”

Cecil practically purrs these words, sliding his hand down Carlos' damp chest. Unlike Cecil, Carlos is not so easily distracted by sex. He catches Cecil's wrists and holds them in front of him.

“I'm shaving, Cecil.”

“Carlos!”

“I'm not going around like this for- For God only knows how long!”

Cecil's lower lip quivers. His eyes darken. The bulb in the bathroom sways and flickers. Carlos doesn't really want to replace another light bulb. Cecil's apartment has a strange habit of reacting to his moods, and they've lost more than the occasional light bulb to hissy fits.

“Cecil,” he says, slowly, calmly, thinking that perhaps if he explains himself logically then Cecil will understand. “It might never change back, but my hair will grow back eventually. In the meanwhile, I don't want to have a beard, alright?”

“Give it a few days.”

“Cecil-”

“A week, max. For me.”

Carlos sighs.

“Just to give it the chance. For me, my lovely, caring Carlos.”

Carlos sighs again and goes to run his hand through his hair, only to find he doesn't have any. That's going to take some getting used to.

“I will wait three days, and if there's no change, the beard is going.”

Sometimes you have to just accept the small victories.

Cecil grins. The bulb stops flickering and the light brightens.

“Deal.”

It's going to be a long three days.

*

Carlos makes them breakfast and Cecil watches him intently the whole time. While not entirely a new experience, it has been a while since the last time, but Carlos is pretty good at ignoring Cecil when he wants to, so he just works around him without taking any notice.

“How do you want your eggs?”

“Fertilized.”

“That joke doesn't get funny, regardless of how many times you repeat it.”

“It always cracks me up.”

"Oh god, here we go with the puns."

“You need to learn to take a yolk, Carlos.”

“Eggs, Cecil. How.”

“Having an eggs-estential crisis.”

Scrambled it is then.

Eating, which was once such an easy and mundane task, is no longer as simple, and Carlos ends up with several bits of egg in his beard. Cecil smiles and helps clean him up. It's been less than half an hour and Carlos is already so, so done with this.

“Do you see why the beard is a hassle?”

“Nonsense! You just need to get used to it.”

It is not really worth the effort of arguing with Cecil, so Carlos simply cleans the dishes and prepares to set out for the lab. His beard is going to be a problem. It's going to be in the way. He's going to keep forgetting about it. Something has to be done.

Carlos finds a few hair ties from that one time Cecil wouldn't let him cut his hair for months on end. He feels a bit silly twisting them around his beard, but if it will make it a bit more manageable and keep it out of his way, well, then, sometimes sacrifices have to be made. Cecil watches him with a look of complete delight as he does this, as if this is the most wonderful thing Cecil could imagine happening today.

“Don't mention this on your radio show,” says Carlos, because you never know with Cecil. You have to be firm and draw clear boundaries between what is and is not suitable for the town to hear. Then you have to remind him every time something is not suitable anyway because Cecil has a habit of forgetting the boundaries.

“Oh, but-”

“No buts.”

“People are going to see-”

“No.”

“-you anyway.”

“I don't care, Cecil. We've talked about this.”

“You're so fussy.”

“Because I don't like having the whole town hear my business?”

“I just like telling them about you.” There is a hint of sulk in Cecil's voice, but Carlos does not have time to sweet talk him out of one of his moods.

“I'll see you when I get back.”

He kisses Cecil briefly before grabbing his bag and heading out the door.

*

When Carlos arrives he gets questioning looks from a few of his co-workers milling around in the lab. He can tell that they want to ask, but at the same time they, like Carlos, have adapted enough to Night Vale to know better. He is grateful for this. It's not so much explaining what happened that bothers him, but explaining why he still has the beard. Cecil makes him sound whipped enough on the radio as it is. (And, well, he is quite whipped, but no one needs to know that.)

He checks a few running experiments and gets feedback from his co-workers. He listens as a few of them update him on any new occurrences worth studying, and sends a group out into the desert to investigate the glowing green molehills that have started popping up in spiral patterns. Once he's recorded all changes and dealt with any questions, Carlos returns to work on a few of his own experiments he has running at the moment.

The problem, Carlos later thinks, is probably not in the beard itself. Lots of scientists have beards. Charles Darwin had a beard. Alexander Graham Bell had a beard. Dmitri Mendeleev had a beard. Heck, several of his professors at college had beards.

No, the beard itself probably isn't the problem.

The problem is that Carlos is not used to having a beard. Growing a beard, just like growing out hair, is a gradual process. There is time to adjust to the changes in length. To get used to them. It is strange to suddenly have no hair just as it is strange to suddenly have a beard. He keeps forgetting and going to run his hand through his hair, just as he keeps forgetting he has a beard.

Until he accidentally catches it in the flame of the Bunsen burner.

Once the panic of, _oh, my gosh, my face is on fire_ , passes, Carlos is left feeling very embarrassed. He decides that is enough science for one day and he does something he very rarely does. He goes home early.

He stands in front of his bathroom mirror for a long time. He should just shave it. His beard is half burned away now anyway, seared at the edges. It's a mess. He can't go outside like this. He can't go back to the lab. Cecil will be upset, but Cecil will get over it.

After nearly ten minutes he sets the razor back down.

He really is whipped. He should probably work on that.

*

Carlos is curled on the sofa, partially focused on his reading but mostly just wallowing in the shame of setting himself on fire. Some things are hard to live down. His colleagues will be making digs about that one for ages, he is sure. He's wondering about ways he can disguise his face to pop to the shop when the radio in the corner turns itself on. It always does this for Cecil's show. All radios do this for Cecil's show, and Carlos is unsure if all radios do this automatically, or if it is only when he is present, as if they are doing Cecil's will.

He's only half listening, letting the familiar warmth of Cecil's voice wash over him without really taking in the words. It's nice. Comforting. Carlos sets his book on his chest. Maybe he'll have a nap. When he wakes up things might be back to normal. Hopefully. He's just starting to drift off when he hears his name.

“-Carlos! And let me just tell you, dear listeners, he looks ravaging. So handsomely rugged and manly! Not that Carlos is not always handsome, rugged and manly, but there's just something about it that's really sexy, y'know?”

So much for 'don't mention this on the radio, Cecil'. Sometimes Carlos wonders why he even tries.

Cecil sighs and it crackles through the speaker. Carlos reaches for his phone.

“Oh! Speaking of lovely and rugged Carlos, I have just received a text from him. Of course, it would be unprofessional of me to check it while on air-”

Carlos rolls his eyes. Cecil has gone over his pretend 'oh so unprofessional' act so many times before that Carlos has lost count.

“But, what the hell! Maybe his beautiful and perfect hair has somehow found its way back to- Oh. Well, Carlos has told me that I said I would not mention this on air, but what Carlos does not appreciate is that it is my duty to bring you news, Night Vale, of what is happening in our little town, and for all I know, there could be other citizens out there who have gone through the same thing as Carlos. Is it not better that I give you a sense of solidarity by letting you know you are not alone in your beard-y suffering? Is it not better-

Oh! Carlos is now threatening to shave his beard, dear listeners. What tragedy! Carlos, if you are listening to me right now, don't you _dare_ , mister! You promised! That beard better be intact by the time that I get off, or else. Anyway, I'm afraid we have to move on now, in the hope that changing the topic will prevent Carlos from making any drastic decisions about his sexy facial hair. Also, Station Management is growling at me. I don't think they like it when I talk about my boyfriend. Do you think they're jealous? Not that I blame them, of course, as you know, Carlos is completely-

Ahem. Yes. Traffic.”

Carlos chuckles in spite of himself and shakes his head. Cecil might be temperamental and lack any concept of the importance of privacy, but there's something endearing about him regardless. Or maybe Carlos is biased. Sentiment can do that.

*

“What happened?” This is the first thing out of Cecil's mouth when Carlos opens the door.

“Don't ask.”

“Carlos!”

“I had an accident at the lab.”

Cecil is in his space in an instant, checking for any sign of damage.

“Really, Carlos, for a scientist you are awfully careless. You're always having accidents. I can't say I approve.”

“I just forgot about the beard, alright. It's new. I'm not used to it. I'm fine.”

He takes Cecil's arms and slowly moves his hands away from his face. Cecil looks less panicked now that he has assessed the damage, but his expression only shifts to one of disapproval. Carlos kisses him as a distraction.

“Now will you please let me get rid of it?”

“You promised three days.”

“I can't go out like this, Cecil.”

“Who said anything about going out?” Cecil is giving him his bedroom eyes, and Carlos is pretty sure Cecil was delivered onto him to make up for the three mostly sexless years that preceded him. He was definitely worth the wait. “I was thinking about your beard all through my show.”

“So I heard.”

“I like it when you listen. I like knowing you're hearing me.”

“I like listening to you. You know that.”

“Mm, I do.” Cecil has been idly twisting Carlos' beard around his fingers, but now he moves forward against Carlos' chest. “Should I use the voice, then?”

He is grinning and Carlos is hit by a wave of sudden and fierce adoration for him.

“Yes. Do.”

*

Carlos is woken by a scream.

It is high, and it is delighted, and the bed is moving as Cecil flails about. Carlos jerks up in the bed, automatically responding to the sound. This really needs to stop. Two (probably) mornings in a row of this is more than enough.

“Carlos!”

“What is it today?”

“Your hair is back!”

Carlos runs a hand through his hair that is, indeed, back.

“Oh, thank God for that,” Carlos says. His fingers catch at the end, where his hair is brittle and damaged, burned at the tips. “I'm going to need a haircut.”

“No.”

“Cecil.”

“Carlos, no, we agreed, only when-”

“My hair is in a state, Cecil, I need to get all the dead ends cut off. No. Stop it. Your puppy dog eyes won't work, this is happening.”

“But Carlos-”

“No.”

“It looks just-”

“No.”

He will not give in. This is it. This is him proving he is not completely whipped. Cecil seems to pick up on his determination, for he gives up arguing and folds his arms across his chest sulkily.

“I'm telling everyone about our sex life on air.”

“Cecil!”


End file.
